


Queen Undisputed

by cerulean_sin (am_bellanoire)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Gen, One Shot Collection, Post-Descendants (2015), Pre-Descendants (2015), Pre-Descendants 2, Pre-Descendants 3, She Rules Me...End Of, uma is a queen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-01-25 17:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21360199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/cerulean_sin
Summary: Uma is considered Queen of the Isle. There are countless reasons as to why. Herein lies ten of them and the appreciation her people show her as a result.  (Or in other words -- our favorite sword wielding, bad ass Anti-Hero, commander of the finest pirate crew known to Disney doing what she does best, taking care of her own)
Relationships: Freddie Facilier/Uma, Gil/Harry Hook/Uma, Gil/Uma (Disney: Descendants), Harry Hook/Uma
Comments: 22
Kudos: 123





	1. Provider

**Author's Note:**

> Uma is without doubt my favorite character of the franchise. There are just so many intricate layers to her and I feel she just doesn't get the appreciation she deserves some times. So as a result, this collection of stories was born. 
> 
> The timeline in this shifts between Pre-Desendants, Post Descendants, Pre Descendants 2 and Post Descendants 3. Also some things will be canon, others AU, and others added by me for plot purposes. 
> 
> I'll try to update as regularly as possible, things have been a little slow for me on the writing front for the past few weeks due to illness, but I guarantee it'll get finished. Happy reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated!

The Chip Shop was busy today. It truly was astounding how quickly empty bellies could convey to brains that horrible food was actually good nourishment. Ursula's restaurant was one of the only places on the Isle of the Lost that was open from sunup to sundown and so long as you had spent your day pick-pocketing, pillaging, or actually working for those prized blue bills, you could get something hot to stave off hunger pangs for another night. 

Uma rarely touched the stuff that came out of her mother's kitchen. It was much better for throwing at the television or smearing the walls. The grease was rancid, the cutlery dirty, the cuisine, spoiled. And the service, well that left very little to be desired. Yet still people flocked to the shop day in and day out. No one had died from food poisoning yet, so she supposed that was a good thing. And Gil, who inhaled whatever was on the menu like a human vacuum cleaner, was just as fit and strong as ever. 

When midnight rolled around however, Ursula finally released the six handed grip she had on the pots and pans and random seasonings – perhaps having flashbacks from her underwater grotto and cauldron – and retired to her nook upstairs to catch up on the soap operas she had missed during the day. Not before barking out to the whomever lingered in the dining area that they'd better get a move on or lose a limb. 

Once the patrons had scattered, some still with food on their plates that they either stashed, gobbled down, or left behind for washing, Uma could breathe easier. Though her legs ached, her arms were heavy, and her fingers were blistered from waiting tables, her work wasn't done. She still had to feed her crew. 

“What've we got tonight boys and girls?” 

Uma's stalwart voice rang out in the space that was now devoid of everyone except those who slept aboard the Lost Revenge. They were a crew of eleven now, the largest gang on the Isle. 

“Got three potatoes, no rotten spots or nothing,” Jonas called out and set his wares down.

“Found half a loaf of bread,” said Bonny with her signature smile as she pulled said bread from the pocket and laid it out on the scarred wooden counter beside Jonas' potatoes, “A little moldy but I think it'll do.”

Little Desiree, the youngest member of the crew, looked stricken in the next moment, biting her lip, a far cry from the vicious expression that could cross her face whenever she had to draw her blade. “All I found was an onion, Uma. I'm sorry.”

Uma smiled fondly, drawing her thumb down a grimy but warm cheek. “S'okay baby girl, your captain says that's just fine.” Once Desiree relaxed, the sea witch turned to the rest of her crew who all presented whatever they had managed to scrounge up for the night's pot. A couple cloves of garlic from Gonzo, half a head of wilted cabbage from Angie, Harlow and his twin Marlow had struck damn near gold with a bag of spices they'd managed to sneak off a former citizen of Agrabah. Don had risked his own hide stealing them some beans from a witch''s decaying vegetable garden. But still, the rest of them had turned up empty handed and were ashamed. 

Uma was fair, though. Everyday couldn't be a good day. When all you had to go by was Auradon's cast offs and what you could steal, she could not penalize her most loyal if they couldn't find anything. So long as it didn't happen two days in a row. Then you'd have to sacrifice your plate and the growling stomach would give you just enough strength to seek harder. Such was the way of the Isle. But the captain of the Lost Revenge didn't let her crew go hungry, best leave that up to their parents. Her punishments were always fair. Those who hadn't found anything tonight were sure to find something tomorrow,

At last she turned to her first mate and her muscle. Harry and his devil may care self. Gil with his strong arms and syrupy sweet smile. She couldn't help the way her lips quirked upwards in affection whenever she regarded those two. She didn't have favorites. Crew was crew, but Harry was different. Gil was different. They were almost an extension of herself in the way that her mother's tentacles were an extension of her. 

“I didn't bring any food,” said Gil though he didn't seem at all remorseful over the fact. Which was fine for two reasons – one he supplied things like flour and eggs and there was a few times he managed to smuggle in a chicken from Gaston's coop. He faced the wrath of his father and brothers on too many occasions to count and his captain and fellow crew mates were more than grateful. Also, he currently carried two jugs of ale in both hands as if they hardly weighed more than feathers. 

“You brought the party then huh, big boy?” the sea witch snorted, chucking him under the chin to which his hazel eyes positively gleamed with delight. 

“Brought some wee fishies fer my darling,” Harry drawled, holding out his hook where upon dangled a line of perch, yellow scales glistening heads, dead black eyes, and all, “I'd have filleted them fer ye but I know how much ye like that part yerself.”

Uma was good with a knife. And perch was her favorite. Harry must have either charmed the hell out of someone on the docks or wrangled it the old fashioned, more bloodier way. Which was fine by her. 

“You're too good to me,” she murmured with a toothy smile, fingers seeking purchase in his inky locks and her first mate all but swooned under the caress. 

With the ingredients her crew had amassed, it was time to get busy. It took almost an hour for Uma to whip up a pot of seafood stew. By now Ursula had probably passed out or was too engrossed in her stories to be of any threat. And that was good for the owner of the establishment because Uma was quite sure she might actually dismember her own mother if the cecaelia thought she would even get a whiff of her crew's supper. Let her thrive on rotten seaweed and fish bones for all the pirate captain cared, it was the same amount of concern she had been shown as child and Uma was still quite bitter about that. Gathering followers, a ship, and territory would have been far easier had she not been so scrawny. 

As she cooked, breathing in the aroma of the stew that bubbled to completion in the pot, she listened to the sounds of her crew's revelry in the shop proper. Sounded like they had cracked open the first jug of ale and good for them, They deserved a little unwinding. Life on the Isle was tough as it was but after the news of Mal, Evie, Jay, and Carlos – the four who had been chosen to go to Auradon nearly a year ago – deciding to mend their ways and start fresh under the guise of _good_, and in doing so abandoning everyone else on the island prison who thought that this would be their big chance, well it could only be said that she planned to have her head spun by Gil's offering before the night was through. Else she might do something...reckless. She was angry sober but for some reason a happy drunk. 

Once the food was done, she served it up with far more tenderness than she showed the usual patrons of the shop. And she had been careful to dish out the same amount of food to everyone. It wasn't much but it was enough to tide them over until tomorrow. The bread had been cut into thin slivers for dipping and to fluff it out just a little more. It wasn't until everyone had a tray of stew and bread that Uma ventured back into the kitchen to fish out what was left for herself. 

“Captain?” 

She turned at the sound of Jonas' voice, the word slightly indolent due to the ale, but his stance didn't bespeak of intoxication nor did the expression on his face. If anything, he looked like he was prepared to fight. And that set Uma on edge. Perhaps Ursula hadn't been gone to sleep yet after all.

“What is it.”

Not a question but a statement. 

“There's some urchins out back, Bonny caught them digging through the trash. Probably looking for something to pawn.”

“Bring them to me.”

Though everyone on the Isle knew that her territory was hers, it wasn't unheard of for a few stragglers to test their luck and risk their necks. She'd almost be flattered by it though, almost. Abandoning the pot, she strode out into the sitting area, the hilt of her cutlass cupped in a calloused palm, her expression stony. There, being held at the points of six blades were two small children. They looked no older than six or seven but when it came to the Isle and _growth_, they could have easily been ten or eleven, or as old as fourteen. She'd been small for her age too. They were dressed in rags, dirty and tattered things, faces chafed red and smudged with grime but pale otherwise. Eyes wide and they clung to each other. There was symmetry, a likeness in their features and Uma knew immediately that they were related. Siblings. A boy and a girl. And the boy, though he looked terrified enough to piss himself, had positioned his body in such a way that he was attempting to shield his sister.

Brave lad. 

“Stand down,” the pirate captain barked, not taking her eyes off of the kids and the sound of swords being resheathed cut through the tension. Once the weapons were away the little girl seemed to relax a bit, or at least she actually started _breathing_ again. But the boy, he still remained in his protective stance, angled so that Uma could only really see half of his sister's tiny body. 

“Speak,” she said at last, directing the order to the boy. 

“W-we was only looking for food, miss. Honest. A crust of bread or something that mighta got thrown out by mistake. We wasn't tryin' to steal nothin'..” The girl behind him nodded earnestly, her matted hair brushing against her cheek with the gesture. 

Uma stared them down for a moment longer. On the Isle, some kids could be almost as bad if not worse than their parents. Children could be manipulative. Their overall helplessness and cuteness being their best assets. For most of them, it was the first weapons they had learned to wield. But something about _them_, well it made her heart – that wasn't as icy as she tried to convince herself – crack and leak. 

“As you were boys,” she ordered her crew – and the girls, who weren't boys, but knew she was speaking to them too – then beckoned toward the children. “You two, with me.”

They followed her to the kitchen, their gait slow and shuffling. One of them, she was quite sure it was the girl, walked with a limp as if she had suffered a break that hadn't healed right. She also noticed the way they held onto each other. As if they were afraid the other might disappear if they let go. 

She _hated_ this place.

“Nothing in those trash bags is edible, anyway,” Uma muttered as she put the spoon back in the pot, and gave it a stir, “Luckily for you poor unfortunate souls, I have some skills.”

The way the two's eyes virtually lit up at the scant remains of the stew, well didn't that just make Uma hate being condemned to this hell hole all the more? They looked as if they were staring at a table buckling under the weight of an Auradonian feast and not just a few spoonfuls at most of something she had managed to whip up out of nothing. 

“Let me get you two some trays,” she said, far more gruffer than intended and the boy immediately began to protest, his eyes practically bugging out his head. 

“Oh no, she can have it all, miss. I - I'm not all that hungry. Honest.”

“You think I don't know a lie when I hear one? Word of advice kid, no one on this island is _honest_. You're eating and if you don't, well I'll be _really_ disappointed.”

That managed to shut him up. 

Uma wanted to be peeved, sometime later, at the way Harry and Gil both not so subtly pushed their half eaten trays of stew in her direction. She pushed them back and so did they and it was a back and forth for quite some time until Uma at last conceded defeat and took two spoonfuls from both. Her first mate and muscle were smart enough to know that that was all she was going to eat. And though her stomach growled in protest at being teased so cruelly, she batted the slaps of hunger away with a deep swallow of ale and another, her dark eyes lingering on the two kids who were clapping their hands in time to the sea shanty her crew had started boisterously singing. There was color back in their cheeks and while she knew their plight was far from over, the gods only knew what they were going to do tomorrow night or the next night to fill their bellies – they weren't crew and therefore not her responsibility – in that moment, she felt a strange warmth somewhere near the center of her chest.


	2. Healer

Uma's braids fanned out around her like a rushing turquoise wave as she spun left and then right, never missing a beat with her blade. Her foe was a hyperventilating, sweating mess, tiring himself even further as her tried to keep up with her movements, tried to a use brute force against her stealth and speed. As much as she hated it, in the heat of battle the captain of the Lost Revenge relished in her smaller build because it gave her an extra edge against opponents who she didn't match in size. They weren't expecting her to be able to strike low, sweeping blows, weren't banking on her being faster and less prone to fatigue, weren't chancing her ability to target weak spots they didn't have the sense to hide. 

To put it simply, she was winning before even a drop of blood was spilled. That wouldn't last though. This was the third time this rival gang had trespassed on her territory. On the Isle of the Lost the most important thing to have in your possession was territory. Territory denoted power, it meant status, it was far more valuable than money – especially in a place where majority of its citizen acquired wares through unsavory means. When you had territory, turf, a place that belonged to you and your most loyal, you were sitting on a virtual gold mine. The problems came with the need to defend it on a regular. Because that was par for the course.

For Uma, however, that was one of her favorite parts. For someone like her, commander of a pirate crew and a sea witch with no access to her inherent magic, she lived by the sword. Being naturally ambidextrous gave her an added edge when it came to wielding her weapons. And her blood lust could only be rivaled by the depth of feeling she had for her crew. She had fought tooth and nail for hers and would ever defend it to the death. 

And then some. 

Her crew was just as fearsome, just as vicious as she was. It was why they were crew. Even those who didn't get off on battle and bloodshed – gentler souls like Gil or craftier, much more technical fighters like the twins – could dish out punishment with blades and fists with an almost _scary_ protectiveness. They all protected what was theirs in the name of their captain who they followed and supported unconditionally.

With this rival bunch though, the first time, she had let them off with a warning, the second had been a threat, but the third time – as those idiotic heroes liked to say was the charm -- an all out brawl had broken out on the docks. Swords clashed, fists met flesh, grunts and gasps of exertion, pain, and glee – mostly from her side of things – rang out like an alarm. Those who had nothing to do with the altercation had only a few options. Take refuge lest they be caught in the crossfire, or watch from a distance just to see if Uma's crew weren't all bark and no bite and witness what happened to those who crossed her. 

She had the point of her cutlass against the throbbing pulse of the gang's leader physically restraining herself from running said point through skin and sinew. Uma laughed, a throaty, thoroughly mirthful sound that she used as much of weapon as her blade. “Got it figured out now? You ain't winning this.”

Where they were from, such a position that she had the leader in meant the end of a fight. Something of a surrender in reverse. With the head incapacitated, a body could no longer battle. Such a thing was akin to mutiny. And besides, the one who Uma supposed was the second in command was currently a hairsbreadth away from receiving an entirely unamused smile at the curve of Harry's Hook. It was a loss for them but a victory for those of the Lost Revenge. And everyone watching who hadn't tucked tail and run had witnessed it and might have learned to know better before they got any greedy eyes for her turf. 

With their foe departed – scattered more like – Uma brought up the rear ascending the gangplank of her ship, doing a silent headcount to make sure all eleven of hers were present. Her brows furrowed when she came up one short thrice. And then an admirably quiet panic set in. The kind that didn't change her facial expression but made her heart rate kick up several uncomfortable notches. 

“Where's Desiree?” she asked in a steely tone to which the rest of her crew, some with blades still in hand, others bruised, but all wearing smiles of triumph that bled into concern once her words descended, didn't seem to have the required response. Uma wasn't about to wait for them to try to figure it out either. Best case scenario, the youngest member of their crew had dipped off below decks without anyone realizing, Worst, she had been taken hostage and a strategy would be needed to retrieve her. 

“Gil. Bonny. Gonzo.” 

She didn't have to give further instruction or specifics, the three filed off the ship immediately, their unspoken orders to search the perimeter for Desiree making their strides heavy and full of purpose. Her first mate was at her side almost instantly as if pulled in by a riptide.

“Harry,” she bit out through clenched teeth and only he could hear the depth of the emotion she felt. The worry, the chill in her bones, terror, that she couldn't keep at bay. 

“They're gonna find her, darling. Don't fash yerself.” 

She paced the length of the deck, her boots thudding against the weathered wood, rivaling the pounding of her heart. It was taking too long. If Desiree was anywhere in the area, they would have gotten to her by now. For all they knew, the girl could be being held by the rival gang for some kind of ransom or being tortured for retaliation against the embarrassing defeat. The Isle was not kind to its inhabitants – in a place rife with thieves, murderers, and worse, that was a known fact – but it was worse for its girls. The sad and sorry truth of the matter. Of course Desiree was a fighter, like the whole crew was. She was small but mighty and outright deadly with a blade. But she was so young, the youngest at ten. And if she was outnumbered, well, it didn't matter how good she was with a weapon. She'd be overpowered pretty easily. 

“_Ugh_!” Uma gripped at her braids and tugged hard enough to make her scalp sting, fighting the urge to toss reason to the sea and go after her lost crew member. Desiree, like all of them, was _hers_ to keep safe and she could not stand this nauseating feeling of fear and failure that rolled like waves within her. 

She felt Harry grab her by the shoulder, stilling her movements and all but snapped her teeth at him like an animal, her face screwing up into a murderous look.

“Let me go.”

Ignoring the direct order – a rare thing for him to do, absolute mutiny for anyone else to even think about – he kept his hand where it was and jerked his chin in the direction of the gangplank instantly drawing his captain's attention to where Bonny and Gonzo were leading the way at a pace just short of a run. Gil brought up the rear, walking a little slower and stilted. Cradled limply in his big arms was Desiree. 

Uma rushed to them immediately, feeling Harry's ever constant presence at her back. She could see their fallen crew member was still conscious. But her expression _screamed_ pain. Eyes opened so wide all one could practically see were the whites, her brows furrowed, her top row of teeth imbedded into her bottom lip in an effort to keep her whimpers stifled. Her chest, rising and falling rapidly with the effort it took to subdue herself. The sea witch could practically smell the blood leaking from an open wound in the younger girl's side but it was her left arm, hanging at an unnatural angle that caught her attention. It was broken, needed to be reset and splinted. 

“What happened?” Uma demanded, her tone hard but her hands fluttering over the youngest member of her crew gave away her concern. 

“She ran off,” Bonny tutted with a roll of her eyes and even though her face read annoyance, her captain knew her better and could easily read the worry there, “We found her hiding under the docks.”

Uma knew Desiree had to be hurting something nasty giving the fact that she didn't even try to defend herself. But that would be addressed later. Right now, she jumped quickly into action, barking out orders that her crew bolted to follow.

“Gil, bring her to my quarters. Harry bandages, the cleanest you can find. Jonas, driftwood, Bonny, rum.”

Desiree was safe and so Uma could relax. As her crew set about to getting her the materials she needed, she followed Gil below deck to the captain's quarters. The one place on the ship that was off limits to everyone besides her, Harry, and Gil. Unless the situation was dire enough. Like now. 

“Lay her on the bed,” Uma directed as she removed the rings from her fingers and tied her turquoise braids back away from her face. And then she rounded on her fallen crew member, her brown eyes flashing with rage.

“Don't you ever do that again. If you get hurt, you stay where I can see you. You hear me?” Her tone might have been harsher than she intended but fear had a way of doing that.

Of course Uma knew why the child had run off. She got why Desiree would think being unable to hide her pain might make her look weak ebough to be ejected from the group. But she didn't run her crew that way and she needed that to be understood.

Desiree nodded feebly and for the first time since the fight on the deck ended, Uma could breathe easier. She accepted the bandages and driftwood and rum and then promptly pushed the others out of the room, leaving her and the younger girl alone.

Once Harry, Gil, Bonny, and Jonas left the room, Desiree finally broke down. Uma realized it was the first time she had ever seen the younger girl actually cry. Being the youngest, she could screw up her face and wail as a fighting tactic, to disarm. But this was the first time she'd seen her shed real tears and sob.

“It's okay baby girl, ” the sea witch murmured in what she hoped was a calming voice, much softer than the tone she'd used a few moments ago, “you're gonna be okay.”

“N-no it's n-not,” Desiree moaned plaintively, her breath stuttering in her throat as she sniffled, “I'm s'posed to be t-tough, I'm s'posed to be brave. For y-you.”

That made Uma pause from collecting what she needed to stitch up the gash in the girl's side after the broken arm was seen to and she put a hand on her hip and arched a dark eyebrow. 

“Says who, says me? Desi, this world, this Isle is a nasty place. We put on the faces we want everyone else to see. But with me, with my crew, you don't gotta be nobody but yourself. I promise you that.”

What she was saying they both knew to be true and so Desiree had no comeback for it. 

“It hurts so bad,” she whimpered instead because it did and in that moment for as little maternal comfort she had ever received in her life, Uma knew she needed to step up to the plate and provide some as best she could. 

“I know it does, but your captain's gonna fix you up. I'm gonna have to reset the break though and that's not gonna be fun.”

“You never cry when you get hurt, captain,” her youngest crew member whined, scrubbing at her running nose with the sleeve of her coat. 

“Doesn't mean I don't want to,” was Uma's response as she brought the needle and thread to the bedside. She crouched down and scrubbed the tears from Desiree's pale cheek. She might have learned nothing of coddling from Ursula, but her heart when it came to who she considered _hers_, was big. She hated to see anyone she cared for, anyone loyal to her suffer.

“Really?”

The preteen's light eyes were wide and hopeful. It was such a rare thing on the Isle to see. Here kids old enough to crawl knew that there was little hope in the world.

“Mhmm, did I ever tell you about the time it was just me, Harry, and Gil going toe to toe with the Clayton boys? And they set Shenzi and Bansai's spawn on us and one of them got me right against my ribs,” she lifted her shirt, showing off the jagged bite marks that scarred her torso, “Didn't get anything vital but my eyes might've leaked a bit regardless.” 

Bit of an exaggeration, she hadn't _cried _ more so than stifled screams and curses into Harry's shoulder as Gil had cleaned the wounds with alcohol to prevent infection. But the tale had the desired effect.

“But- but you're so strong.”

“Exactly. And so are you.”

“I am?”

“Hell yeah. You defend me. You defend your crew. And you don't hesitate to spill blood to do that. That's strength to me. Not holding something inside that can't be held back. Lemme see that arm though. You ready?”

“I'm scared Uma.”

Gods, sometimes it was hard to forget the girl was only ten. A child. Small and malnourished enough that she could easily pass for seven or eight. Uma couldn't wait to choke the life out of the citizens of Auradon for condemning them all to this. But she took a deep breath and let her attention and focus remain directed on easing the fear and shame, the insecurity out of Desiree's eyes. That whispered confession made it so hard to reel it back in, though. 

“I know, baby girl,” the sea witch crooned, caressing Desiree's cheek with the back of her calloused hand, “But you'll probably pass out before it gets too bad and when you wake up, you'll be all stitched and splinted and can have a nice big cup of rum. You want me to call Gil in here to hold you?”

Desiree sucked in a huge breath to strengthen her nerve and Uma felt a fierce burst of pride in the middle of her chest when the girl nodded curtly. “Yeah, he won't tease me if I cry.”

She'd keelhaul him if he dared. But Gil was Gil and they both knew he wouldn't. 

“Nope.”

“O-okay.

Uma called for Gil and her muscle came into the room. She could see the tension in his face, in the way his jaw was clenched and his hazel eyes that were usually lit with humor and joy despite the hellhole they lived in were dark, somber, serious. She didn't like to see him this way, he deserved nothing but smile and laughter. But she could understand why he felt the way he did. It was the same reason why she felt the way she did, why Harry and the others were sitting vigilant outside the door to her quarters and would for the rest of the night unless she ordered them otherwise. Desiree was crew. She was family.

“Hold her still for me while I reset her arm, can't have her thrashing around and hurt herself worse. You think you can do that, big boy?”

Gil nodded, resolutely, and moved so that he was cradling their youngest crew member similarly to how he did when he carried up the gangplank, gentle and careful. Comforting.

“Uma's good at this. She had to do the same thing for me before. Broke my leg and it healed just fine,” Gil said softly, his rumbling voice steady and soothing as he stroked the sweat dampened hair from Desiree's brow, “Don't be afraid.”

Uma counted to three in her head as she tightly gripped the broken arm, feeling for where the break and misalignment were. She met Gil's gaze and watched as he turned the small face away. The soft whimpering gave way to a sharp shriek of pain that was blessedly cut short by Desiree's body's defense mechanisms kicking in and the captain breathed a short sigh of relief as the younger's eyes rolled back and her body went limp. One couldn't hurt when they were unconscious. Thank the gods for that. 

“They're dead,” the sea witch muttered dryly as she wrapped dingy bandages around the driftwood splint, “The ones who did this, I want them dead. Tonight.”

It was a rare occasion when blood lust bled onto Gil's face but Uma couldn't help but smile as her normally jovial muscle took on an expression that could rival even the most manic of her first mate. He was anything if not brutally protective and that was why he held the rank he did. She loved him best when he was at his best, she hated to see him sad, but the wicked part of her, the part she knew all her crew possessed, seeing him ready to use his strength to make their enemies pay in a pound or two of flesh never failed to make her heart flutter. 

“Done.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the previous chapter I couldn't not touch on the relationship Uma has with her crew, especially the younger ones. Thank you all so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it and feedback would be greatly appreciated!! 
> 
> Long Live Queen Uma.


	3. Savior

Uma lounged on the deck of the Lost Revenge, sprawled indolently on the splintering planks of wood as if she didn't have a care in the world. Because in this moment, she could properly pretend she didn't. It was Sunday. Which meant the chip shop was closed for the day. Which meant no slinging trays and trays of food to ungrateful, foul mouth patrons until her feet burned with fatigue. Which meant no dodging her mother's tentacles whenever Ursula decided she was annoyed enough to start swinging. Sundays were reserved for her crew on their ship. 

She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her lips as she watched them reveling in the rare occasion where they could let their guard down, when they could actually act their ages. After all, Uma was not yet sixteen. But for six days out of the week, for three hundred and twelve of the year's three hundred and sixty five days, as much as she had seen, as much as she had to do, she felt as if she was pushing forty. Such was the life on an island prison where even newborns were practically expected to pop out the womb damn near walking and able to feed themselves or be considered weak and disposable. But on Sundays, she could be fifteen. On Sundays, they could all be kids. Because that's what they were. Even Gil who had just turned eighteen. 

Right now, Uma watched her crew _play_. They didn't need Auradonian toys – rocking horses, silver rattles, tea sets, porcelain dolls, prettily painted cars and trucks, video games, laptops, smart phones – to have a good time. Jonas, Gonzo, Bonny, and Don were in the middle of the most intense game of cards that the sea witch was quite sure she might have to eventually move from her spot and break up an inevitable fight. But even though they were swearing like sailors and their hand gestures were obscene, they were smiling. Toothy, feral expressions to be sure, but relaxed enough to let her know they were enjoying themselves. 

“You pull another ace out your sleeve and my dagger is fucking your throat.” Uma didn't even have to look to know who had uttered – screamed, really– that particular threat. 

Gil, who was big enough to dwarf them all, was gently showing Angie how to weave a net out of some decaying seaweed. Her finger's kept slipping with the knots but his broad hands were there each misstep to correct her mistakes. 

“Nope, not like that Gi-Gi,” he said with a warm laugh, “You make the holes like that and even a guppy might swim through. But don't you worry, Uma and Harry showed me the right way to do it. It's way different than wiring a chicken coop for my dad, or loosing an arrow that's for sure.”

The twins, Harlow and Marlow, had dug into their musical roots so to speak. If a driftwood flute and a shark skin drum and wooden spoon could be considered instruments. By Auradon standards, it was highly doubted but on the Lost Revenge, their rendition of 'some random sea shanty' was just what her ears wanted to hear.

Uma watched Harry spar with Desiree. Her arm had finally healed enough for her to be able to hold a sword without dropping it or wincing and she watched her first mate dance around the little girl. He was letting her win, being purposely sloppy with his signature weapon and sword, allowing openings that would not only be closed but locked had he been fighting an enemy. She watched him hit the deck as if he'd been stabbed even though he'd missed the point of Desi's blade by a nautical mile.

“Arghh ye got me, ye got me,” he fake groaned, writhing like a worm on a hook, “Oh ye ran me through! Me spleen, I'm bleeding out!”

“Die ye dirty scalawag!” Desiree yelled, doing a terrible but hilarious impression of Harry's accent. And she just laughed and laughed as if it was the funniest thing ever, tackling Harry's prone form as if he weighed nothing but a seagull's feather because she knew he wasn't really hurt. And their weapons were left behind as if on an afterthought as Harry popped up, miraculously fully healed without needing a stitch, and proceeded to tickle the little girl until she was squirming and shrieking with mirth. 

Uma liked to see her crew this way, even if she couldn't rightly give a name to the warm feeling that rose her in her chest as she watched. All she knew was it was better than swimming in open water, better than having her belly full. Better even than drawing her cutlass in a fight she already knew she was going to win. She would do anything for them. All of them.

She could remember meeting every single one of them and bringing them aboard as if it was yesterday. 

Harry of course had been first to join her crew. The infamous ship race having won her the Lost Revenge. Their childhood bet over who would get to be captain and who would be first mate, everybody knew that. But what people didn't know was how many times she had had to patch him up after his father's drunken tirades had left him bleeding. How he had scrubbed his hands raw trying to wash the shrimp smell from her hair after Mal's dirty trick. People didn't know shit about the time she had had to literally drag him from the docks after he'd had a bit too much rum and had been convinced having his hand chewed off by a crocodile would somehow ingratiate him to a man who'd already lost his damned mind before being condemned to the Isle. She had been the one to feed him when he'd been falling over his own feet from hunger. He'd been the first person to look at her as if she were the sunlight neither of them had ever seen. He had been the first person to take a life in her defense. 

“I'll follow ye to the ends of the earth, captain,” he had vowed with crimson spilling from his lips, and she had accepted because it had been the most truthful thing anyone had ever said to her on an island where people were born to lie.

They'd been fighting side by side going three and a half years strong now. 

Gil had come next. The largest of Gaston's many sons but also the most sensitive. He was big enough where his father couldn't do him too much physical damage. But emotional wounds were harder to treat. Took longer to heal. Even though he retained a boyish countenance despite being the oldest, his loyalty, the strength he'd use to defend what he cared for knew no bounds. Uma had watched him crush a hyena's skull with his bare hands and after she'd gotten over the initial shock, she and Harry had approached him, only to be surprised once more. 

“I hear you're looking for some muscle,” Gil had said with a chipper smile that was equal parts endearing and intimidating as he wiped blood and the brain matter of a once sentient beast on his pants, “Oh sorry about that, it threatened to eat the hens and I raised them from chicks so I couldn't let that happen. Plus the eggs are amazing.”

After Gil, it had been the three of them for a little while until they'd met Jonas. He'd been thirteen at the time, and had taken to hanging out at the wharf, just sitting there for hours at a time dressed in rags. Filthy like most Isle kids. After it had gone on for a week, Uma decided enough was enough and approached him. 

“You either eyeing my ship like you wanna take it from me, or you looking for a place to stay,” she had said caressing the hilt of her sword, “Which one is it?” 

“Why would I try to take your ship? I don't know how to sail and your men would kill me before I made it up the gangplank,” was Jonas' response and it would have been tough had he not been damn near wheezing from hunger, olive skin tone a sickly sea green, “My father died before I was born, my mother, she had a cough that wouldn't go away. It killed her last week. I'll die next if I don't find a place to belong. You take care of your own. Take me on and I'll swab the decks for a hundred years to pay you back.”

He was blunt and Uma liked that. She let her hand fall from her cutlass and cup her hip as she arched a brow. Her other hand she extended to him, helping him to his feet. 

“How good are you with a weapon?”

She would never forget the hopeful look that flooded those eyes even if it only lasted less than a second. 

“As good as you need me to be, captain.”

And then they were four. For less than a year. The twins had wormed their crafty way in fifth and sixth, all of fourteen and smarter than any scientist in Auradon could hope to be. They were a synchronized unit, utterly identical, and down right deadly. Don was next, who had originally belonged to a rival gang up until Harry had slit their leader's throat for trying something untoward with his older sister. Don had followed the son of Captain Hook halfway to the Lost Revenge before dropping to his knees and begging to be kept. Then had come Angie, daughter of a soldier from the Hun Army. She'd been born Wu Hui, which according to her meant 'dirt' in Mandarin only because she'd ultimately dishonored her so called father by being born female. But she was kick ass with a bow and arrow, respectful, and was indiscriminate when it came to eliminating enemies. 

She wasn't as decent with a blade as Gonzo was, though. He was the best out of all of them. They'd found him next in a dank and deserted alley leaving the chip shop after hours. His small frame bent over the corpse of one of Sabor's spawn, hair in wild tangles, bathed in blood, dried tears staining his face. 

“You did that?” Uma had asked, thoroughly impressed with the knife work. It was neat enough to sell as prime cut leopard steak and the skin was perfectly intact. Cruella Deville would probably shit herself and offer up her only boy just to make a coat out of it. 

“If I lied and said I didn't, would you still let me join your crew?” His voice trembled a bit and more tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes but there was nothing weak about him, Uma could tell even then. 

Harry though could ever be counted upon and invaded the boy's personal space, hook and all. 

“If ye're lying and wanting to take credit for something ye didn't do and she took ye on anyways, ye'd have me to answer to, laddie.” 

Uma brought him to heel, seizing his leather vest in her sword hand and yanking him back to her. Quite a feat as Harry was two heads taller than hear and probably outweighed her by at least fifty pounds. But he obeyed the wordless order. Because she was captain and he was first mate. 

“I like a silver tongue as much as the next VK,” she said with a smile that was all malice, “but someone this good with a knife shouldn't have to hide their skills. Why'd you do it?”

“It killed my sister,” Gonzo whispered, his gaze dropping down to his quarry, some kind of emotionless glassiness frosting it over, “She was all I had left in the world and it took her from me. Clawed her up like she wasn't nothing but a sack of meat.”

“Ye're in.” 

Harry had taken the words right out of her mouth. 

Bonny though, she hadn't been so easy to acquire. In fact, she'd been a bitch and a half to deal with. Almost two years older than Uma she had started lingering suspiciously outside the chip shop as if casing the place to look for a way in to rob it or plan some kind of attack. So one night Uma had gone out – Harry of course lurking in the shadows – to explain to the girl what would happen to her if she didn't get lost and quickly.

“You been hanging out here for a while now, what's up?”

“I like the view,” was the sarcastic reply. The girl didn't move from the spot where she was posted on the wall, nor did she look like she was going to move any time soon.

Uma bristled at the tone and she could see Harry take a step closer from her periphery. The girl was either crazy as hell or fearless and both were dangerous things to deal with.

“So moldy fish sticks and week old slaw is your idea of view?” Uma played it off with a laugh. 

“Maybe it is.” 

The girl wasn't much taller than her, with skin that could be considered 'rusty' and might could darken to bronze if the sun ever shined long enough on the Isle, her hair was long but matted and dirty, a fiery auburn. She was dressed like most kids were, tattered rags, boots that were practically falling to bits, and a torn bandanna to keep sweat and grime out her eyes. Sizing her up though, Uma could tell she was strong. Her bared arms had a decent tone to them and the way she braced her weight in her thighs, sinking into a sort of defensive crouch, Uma knew this girl was a fighter. But so was she and she had a crew that was nothing but a whistle away. The girl was by herself. 

“Well if I catch you 'round here again, you won't be able to enjoy much of anything, least of all some damn view.” 

Two days later, she was back and this time there were no words. Her shift had been hellish, her mother's fuse shorter than usual, and she had been too slow to jump out of the way of a nastily stinging blow from a tentacle. Uma rushed the girl with a growl, throwing all her force into the tackle. She may have been small, but was a mighty thing and she had the element of surprise. She could tell in the way the girl swallowed hard beneath the hand that Uma had wrapped around her throat and squeezed, gaze that flickered with something almost like fear to where Harry stood, his hook scrapping ominously against the brick wall. 

“What the hell did I tell you?” No games now, she was _pissed_, and the need to protect her territory and her crew overrode any mind games that could have been played, “You got a hearing problem too? You'll be a sitting duck once I black those pretty eyes of yours for trespassing on my turf _again_.” 

“Do what you gotta do _Uma_,” the girl gasped, struggling to breathe against the choke hold. Uma might not have been able to sprout tentacles what with no magic on the Isle but she could damn sure squeeze the life out of something, “And I'll keep doing what I gotta do.” 

“What the fuck is that s'posed to mean?” Uma's grip tightened, her teeth bared, even as the gears in her mind cranked toward understanding. This wasn't a raid or robbery at all. The girl had been casing the place, yeah, but for a different reason entirely. To stay. 

“What do you think it means?”

But the sea witch was _angry_ and she let that anger shield her bleeding heart. “Stop talking in riddles, bitch, I'll snap your neck and not bat a lash.”

The girl went limp under her hand and Uma finally relinquished her hold, letting her drop like a bag of bones to the ground. Even still, the girl smiled. A horrible gnash of crooked teeth that was equal parts madness and pain. And for one crazy second, she reminded Uma of a female version of Harry. 

“So would my mother.”

“Well I ain't her,” the pirate captain regained her composure rather quickly, staring down at the crumpled form of the girl, mind already made up but hating the path it had taken, “Make your choice.”

“If I choose you will I have a place to sleep?”

_Gods_ she was really going to do this. 

““If you gotta a strong stomach, yeah.”

“Will I have at least one meal everyday?”

Yep she was. 

“If you aren't allergic to seafood, then yeah.”

The girl's expression went from shrewd and mean to vulnerable and back in the span of second. But Uma had seen it and in that moment she had known she was making the right decision. 

“If I choose you, will you keep me safe?”

“Yeah,” the sea witch grunted without hesitation. 

“Swear it to me.”

An odd thing to demand, because it _was_ a demand for someone with weapons trained on them and being practically straddled by the very person who could decide to spare or end their life with only one word. But Uma was taken by the sheer moxie of it all. Of all the people who had joined her crew, or wanted to, this was the most poignant to date. 

“I swear I'll keep you safe.”

“Then I choose you.”

“And what makes you think I want you? You already proved to me you don't listen very well.” Because mutiny would never be tolerated. It was punishable by death on a ship where all the inhabitants either had killed or were willing to do so out of gratitude for having a place to live. This girl could be a problem if she wasn't brought immediately to heel. 

“I'm loyal. I never get sick. I'm not scared of much even if your little friend''s hook is creeping me out right now. And I can make weapons. My brother, he was a blacksmith before he died and taught me everything he knew. You know you wanna keep me or else you would've killed me already.”

There had been something desperate in her tone. Something pleading in her eyes though she tried to hide it. But Uma had seen it and forsaking all her own rules just for a moment, she helped the girl to her feet and let her into the chip shop for a hot plate. 

As if reading her mind, back in the present, Bonny momentarily took her attention away from the card game and glanced over at Uma. She sent her captain a cheeky little wink before returning to her play, slamming an ace onto the table with a triumphant curse. A good scrubbing had done her well, she was quite nice to look at if stark crazy was your thing. But no one handled the swords better than her. She kept their blades sharp and efficient just as she'd promised she would. And she did follow orders. Without question yes, but with a whole lot of attitude that Uma would never, _ever_ admit aloud she actually enjoyed sometimes. 

A high pitched, ringing giggle full of joy and the undeniable blitheness of a child made Uma chuckle softly to herself as she braced her weight on her forearms to get as better view of Harry slinging Desiree onto his shoulders and 'threaten' to toss her into the sea. She reminded him of his little sister, CJ, Harry claimed time and again who he hadn't seen since he had defected from the Jolly Roger. The way he was with her, no one would imagine Harry was a cold blooded killer. Hell, no one would imagine that Desiree was too. It was her age, her youth that did it, Uma had come to realize. She was just far too cute. And she used that cuteness as a weapon. Even the hardest of villains could foolishly let their guard down when pitched face to face with fake tears and a trembling lip, never suspecting the sharp silver dagger behind the little girl's back. 

Uma remembered the day she had traipsed into the Isle square as if it had just happened. For some reason her eyes had wandered to the auction blocks. It was the place where the inhabitants of the Isle sold living property – mostly animals like cattle, pets, the offspring of wild beasts – to make money. But every so often, you'd see someone either really desperate or truly evil pitching the sale of a person, almost always one of their children because they had been dumb enough not to keep it in their pants and couldn't afford another mouth to feed. 

There in the center of the square, _shaking_ like a leaf in the wind stood a small child. Ages were hard to place for most kids. Malnutrition and greed keeping the smallest small. And she was tiny with pale skin and eyes like the sea, wisps of sandy blonde hair brushing her chafed cheeks. 

Uma felt as if she had been harpooned to the spot at which she stood. Unable to move even if she wanted to as she watched the bidding take place. 

On an island when people literally had _nothing_, the most insignificant of things could be worth millions. Someone bid a newly cobbled pair of shoes. Another offered a patched winter coat claimed to be made of Auradon wool. Someone even offered a frying pain and cutlery crafted from silver. And many others had brought along food to barter with because they knew nobody wanted to starve. 

A girl's life and presumed innocence was worth about as much as loaf of bread on the Isle of the Lost. And it spoke volumes that the loudest one's shaking their wares frantically in the air were men old enough to have fathered the child up for sale. 

Uma saw red, drawing her cutlass without even thinking about it and striding toward the front of the crowd, elbowing people out of her way like a turquoise hurricane. 

“Salt water pearls, worth more than the average Auradonian could earn in a year,” the sea witch barked, drawing said pearls from her pocket and holding them out, never taking her gaze off the girl, “And all you can eat for a month at my mother's shop. Free of charge.” 

Her mother was going to murder her once she found out. 

And that was all it took for the shit stain of a man to claim 'sold', thinking of being fed for longer than an average Isle infant's life expectancy _and_ with a set of pearls to bargain with once his free pass expired. 

The little girl didn't speak a word as she limped off the block of wood and flocked to Uma's side. Ignoring the angry shouts and insults aimed her way, the sea witch all but dragged the girl along towards the wharf. Once they had exited the square however, reaching the presumed safety of some random alley shortcut, the little scallop opened up. 

“What are you gonna call me? My first daddy called me 'you' and my second daddy called me 'girl'.”

“I'm not your daddy, I'm you're captain.”

“Is a captain like a daddy...or a mommy since you're a girl? I never had one. Well, maybe I did _once_ but I never met her. My first daddy said I killed her when I was born and that's why he could never look at me because I look too much like her.”

Uma arched an annoyed brow in her direction, cleverly concealing the hurt she felt at the casual words. It wasn't right. 

“You talk too much.”

And there went the trembling of that bottom lip even though the girl's eyes didn't flood with tears. How interesting. 

“I'm sorry, j-just don't sell me, please. I'll do anything for you if you keep me. I – I don't wanna be sold no more.”

“I ain't gonna sell you. You know how long it took me to string those pearls? You know what Ursula's gonna do to me once she finds out I just let some dude eat free for a month? Obviously I wanted you.”

The girl gasped, the feigned teary look evaporating into one of shock.

"You wanted me?" She whispered as if trying to convince herself to believe the words. 

Your name is Desiree,”

“Desiree,” she cooed happily, skipping through the alley as if she hadn't a care in the world or no ides that her fate might have ended totally different had Uma not decided to tread that particularly path. But that was the way defense mechanisms worked. For as young as she was and as 'happy' as she pretended to be, the girl's eyes struggled to hide something haunted, “That's real pretty sounding.”

“I read it in a book, apparently from the Queen's library back in the olden days.”'

Fitting when according to said book, as tattered and worn as it had been, the word meant 'desired', 'wanted'. But the little girl didn't have to know all of that. Not just yet. 

“Queen Belle?” the small voice muttered, the look on her face all of mistrust, “The Beasts' wife? From Auradon?”

Understandable giving the fact that the queen's husband had been the one to put them here in the first place. Maybe she should have picked a villain name instead. But she couldn't think of one that meant what she wanted the girl's new name to mean. Villains didn't have a word for it. 

“Right. Her. Look, if you don't want it, I'll think of something else.”

The girl stopped in her tracks, dry eyes gone all wide, face looking desperate, little hands waving madly about as if she meant to erase away the conversation entirely. 

“No, no I want it I want it. I want to keep it.”

Desiree, the adorably chatty and manipulative scamp of a vicious little thing was her baby girl, and forever would be. 

Her crew, all of eleven of them though, was hers. And she would do anything it took, everything in her power to see them happy. To see them sucking up all the Auradon sunshine they wanted, if they wanted. To see them fed, properly clothed. Because they fought for her, they helped defend her territory. They were loyal to her and she had promised to pay that loyalty back tenfold. 

But today was Sunday. And Sundays meant she could just be fifteen. Sundays meant forgoing a scheme or plan just to watch her crew enjoy the second childhood she had gifted them with giving them a place on her ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh it's about to not only be a New Year but a new decade to boot. Honestly, not trying to get all sappy but writing for this fandom, writing Uma has been the highlight of my 2019. I came aboard late of course but it was the best decision I ever made, penning out that first one-shot. I've been dealing with a lot. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease in October of 2018 and this year has been a struggle, going to more doctor's appointments in my life, taking so many medications and dealing with the side effects, and worst of all the disease affects my eyesight so...not being to write or read or hone my craft and talents as often as I need to, living with the fear of one day going blind? I wouldn't wish that on my worse enemy. 
> 
> This is the last day of 2019 and I'm ready to put this year behind me and looking forward to 2020 and publishing more work for all of you guys to enjoy. It gives me the craziest, most unexplainable feeling of happiness to see all those hits and kudos and comments and subscriptions and bookmarks. Brings the cheesiest smile to my face and I wouldn't trade it for the world. So THANK YOU, thank you so much for welcoming me so warmly into this fandom and making these last four months of a horrible year that much more bearable. I couldn't ask for a greater way to end 2019.
> 
> Emotional speech aside, there's a little Easter Egg in this chapter. For those of you who pay attention, the FIRST person to tell me EXACTLY why Uma chose the three she chose to go after Desiree in chapter two will win a prize. That prize being either 1) a lengthy (at least 200 words) review of one of your stories if you're a published Author on Ao3 (Descendants, Harry Potter, DWP are my preferences but I'll read whatever) 2) If you aren't an author or just don't want the review, then I'll write you a one-shot and gift it to you. The main character must be Uma...but you can decide the rest of the details (rating, genre, ship, content, etc) 
> 
> As always thanks for reading, hopefully the next chapter won't take over a month to be published! Feedback would be greatly appreciated! Please stay tuned!


	4. Deliverer

It wasn't everyday that someone approached the gangplank of The Lost Revenge unarmed and it wasn't everyday that someone managed to get passed Gil, Gonzo, and Bonny onto the actual ship. But it wasn't everyday that Uma saw Celia Facilier, usually scrappy and notoriously silver tongued, look so scared. So she signaled for Bonny to release the hold she'd had on the Shadow girl's arm and ordered her to speak.

“Help, it's Freddie, you – you gotta come with me. She's gonna die if you don't.”

So that was how Uma found herself following Celia through the crumbling alleyways to the Shadow Man's arcade and the decaying brick building beside it where he and his two daughters slept. Without backup much to her first mate and muscle's ire but she'd soothe them in her own way later. They had no beef with the Shadows. Not many did for reasons both superstitious and supernatural. And she was armed to the teeth in event of an ambush just in case. 

Celia ran up the stairs two at a time ahead of her, leading the way. As soon as Uma took a step forward, her nose met the familiar scent of incense and candle wax. It wasn't like the smells of the sea, salt, and fish she was around everyday, but it was still nice for _reasons_. And then she heard a gut wrenching scream of pain reverberating off the walls and her heart gave a nasty lurge against her ribs. Gods, she hated hearing people she actually gave a damn about in pain and she hustled up the stairs and through the opened door, locking it behind her and sucking in a breath to steady herself for this. 

She was used to bloodshed, used to broken bones, used to tossing enemies overboard and turning a blind ear and eye to her sharks feasting. But she wasn't used to seeing someone so proud and strong look so _defeated_. She had a soft spot for Freddie, hell more than a soft spot if she were being honest. But she was the daughter of a villain so she wasn't about to dwell on that. Not when the closest thing to a _friend_ she had outside of her crew was laid out on a pallet on the floor, glassy eyed and broken, her heavily pregnant midsection all swollen and taut mottling her smooth dark skin. 

“Damn girl,” Uma murmured once she had gotten over the shock of the sight, cleverly concealing the very real fear she felt behind a nonchalant facade, “you're gonna summon your daddy's demons with all that noise.”

“Shut the fuck up," Freddie growled, her tone all bite despite the raspy breathlessness and the way her body writhed in agony. 

“Glad to see you ain't all the way gone,” Uma stepped closer, her jaw tightening at the cloying scent of sweat and blood, “What's wrong.”

“I'm trying to shit a brick, obviously.”

The sea witch almost laughed at that as she sunk to her knees at Freddie's side, but the mirth died in her throat when she felt the other girl's flushed skin and noticed the increase in body temperature. Fevers weren't a good sign in a place like the Isle. Still she couldn't let herself panic, especially not in front of Celia who stood fidgeting nearby. 

“I know you into some kinky stuff but you ain't have to call me here for it. I'm sure somewhere in the world I'm still too young. Why's it taking so long? Ce's said it's been almost a day.”

She'd never been interested in watching babies be born. The thought of things emerging all bloody and squawking from too small spaces made her want to throw up. But she knew in this case something was wrong. It wasn't supposed to take this long, was it? Fish popped them out in seconds even ate their young if you didn't get the guppies out the tank fast enough, but humans were different. 

“It won't come out, Uma,” Freddie moaned, taking a hold of a leather clad wrist and squeezing, “It's stuck or something. I – I can't get it out.”

Uma hissed at the unforgiving grasp and tried to ignore the way her skin burned and bones ground under Freddie's touch. She could suck up though, knowing whatever the other girl was feeling had to be a hundred times worse. 

“And where's the fool who put it in you?”

“Hell if I know.”

Probably some urchin who'd tried to fuck himself out of paying the fee for having his fortune told or a wretch who had lost his soul because he'd dared touch one of Shadow Man's little scamps. For as wicked a trickster the dude could be, he was oddly protective of his two girls whenever he _was_ around and not scamming people with promises of unattainable wealth and impossible desires. 

The sea captain managed to peel weakening fingers from her wrist and shook the limb out before tapping Freddie's flushed cheek with an open palm, not hard enough to be considered a real slap, but not soft enough to be considered affectionate. 

“Breathe for me, voodoo doll, try and relax yourself.”

“Don't fucking call me that,” Freddie bit out through clenched teeth and Uma did smile this time, letting her hand linger because the coolness of her touch seemed to provide some sort of relief giving how the ailing girl leaned into it. 

“You rather be pissed at me or scared out your mind? Your choice.” 

She was near delirious with the pain, Uma could tell. Eyes unfocused, body limp, animated only by the spasms or whatever the hell was happening to work the kid out of her by any means even though something was blocking it. Had Celia not come to her, she was sure Freddie would be dead come morning. It happened too often. Lack of modern medicine on the Isle, the unsanitary conditions, the fact that nobody generally gave a fuck? Deadly combination. 

“Just kill me, put me out of my misery,” Freddie's voice was so weak, hoarse that Uma had to get closer to even hear her, “You can keep the damned thing, consider it payment.”

The sea witch recoiled with a noise that sounded like a gasp and a choked sob. But she recovered quickly, despite the fact that her heart felt like someone had barely missed it with a blade, schooling her features and tone with as dry a drawl she could muster. 

“Yeah like my ship needs another mouth to feed.”

“I'm dying anyway. Just like my mother when she had Celia. I'm not gonna make it through this.”

The one tear that fell from Freddie's left eye made Uma's fist clench as she tried to slow her pulse, tried to quell the sickening feeling she felt at the thought she could very well be witnessing the only person outside her crew she gave a damn about breathe her last breath. Because the only reason Freddie would be crying meant she _believed_ she was going to die. No. No. Fuck that, not a chance. Not on her watch. 

“You even think about dying on me Frederique,” Uma growled, tying up her turquoise braids just for something to do with her hands, trying to ignore the way they were shaking, “I'll dig you up and beat your ass.” 

Her gaze leveled on Celia who snapped to attention at once, “Cece me and your sister need your help. Hot water, the hottest you can get and rags as clean as possible, a candle, and whatever the hell's in Shadow Man's liquor cabinet. I'll pay him back for it later.” 

When Celia ran to get the required tools, Uma let her focus back on Freddie, feeling more in command in this situation. She was captain of this ship now. Yes, time was of the essence and weakness would help none of them.

She gripped the girl's jaw with her sword hand, forcing their eyes to meet. “And _you_, I'm gonna need you to stop trying to shatter my eardrums for a second and listen. I've only done this once and the shark was already dead when I did. So your job is to keep your eyes open and your heart fucking beating, got it?” A sluggish nod and a lit candle later, the sea witch unsheathed her sharpest blade and held it against the flame. 

Uma silently prayed to whatever sea god or goddess who might be listening as she made a deep incision into Freddie's flesh. Her eyes remained focused, her hands steady as she blocked out the sound of her friend's screams and Celia's soft words of comfort – or shadow spells for all anyone knew. She held her breath as she made the second incision, her fingers slick and coated with blood at this point, though she had to be careful not go too deep or else Freddie would bleed out in minutes and a life debt owed to the Shadow Man wasn't something she needed, wanted, or cared to entertain in her already chained life. Her stomach jolted when she felt tiny squirming feet kicking at her finger tips and she let her blade drop. With both hands, she guided the legs, feeling for the body, and gently pulled until the whole thing was free.

_Gods_. She had fucking done it. And the kid, the baby, was pissed the way it was yelling its little head off. A girl, so the parts said. Alive. And Freddie's soft whimpers despite the fact that she had a hole in her gut meant she was still breathing too. She tied off the cord of flesh with a line of fishing wire she kept in her boot, wrapped the baby in the last clean rag, and handed it to Celia, trying to shake the oddly warm feeling she felt in her chest, welcoming the wave of anger that followed on its heels with relish. That poor kid, less than five minutes old, didn't even know she had been born in a prison. 

“She have a name?" Uma asked once her hands had been scrubbed as clean as they could get and the wounds had been properly sewn up. “Or are we gonna go with 'it'?”

Freddie sat propped up against a couple dusty pillows, nursing a chipped cup of root tea courtesy of Celia- Uma could have sworn she saw the girl add some of the afterbirth to the tea but had turned her head at the last minute - with her sleeping daughter cradled in the crook of her right arm and elbow, Her color was coming back and her eyes were starting to clear. It was getting harder to tell that she had been knocking on death's door and in a world of pain only an hour ago. 

“I wanna call her Faith.”

Uma almost choked on the thimbleful of absinthe she'd probably have to sell her best dagger for. 

“Faith. Now if that's not the most heroest of hero names I don't know what is. They're gonna tease the shit out of her at Serpent Prep.”

“I been watching those old Audradon soap operas for the past few weeks,” Freddie said with a shrug and Uma watched with narrowed eyes as she pressed a tender kiss on her child's forehead. So _that_ was what kisses looked like from mothers. Weird. “Maybe it was the hormones, I don't know. But all they talk about is faith this and faith that and having faith and how it helps see you through your darkest days and whatever.”

“And?”

“I don't know what happened just now but the moment I looked at her. I felt something. I felt like this couldn't be the end, you know?”

Uma swallowed the last of her drink and with all the mushy talk that was making her tongue taste sour, contemplated having another one. But Celia's warning of the green spirit making her actually _see_ spirits deterred her. So she arched a brow at Freddie instead, her tone droll. 

“Smooth talk for someone who was asking me to kill them only a little while ago.”

“I have faith that she's going to see Auradon one day and not only that but live there if she wants to and eat herself fat if she wants to. She ain't gonna go to Serpent Prep or Dragon Hall, she's gonna go to a _real_ school in Auradon and learn something I could never teach her,” Freddie hadn't taken her eyes off the baby since she'd opened her mouth, “She ain't gonna be just a villain kid's kid, Uma. She's gonna be something. We all are. And for some stupid reason I know you're gonna be the one to get us there.”

And then Uma found herself pinned by a deep dark gaze and it almost made her shudder under its intensity. But she managed to shake herself out of it once the weight of what Freddie was actually saying caught up to her. She? The one to get them all there? To Auradon? Yeah, she'd planned it for her and her pirates. But everyone? All the kids? This new one too? How could she possibly do that? 

“Me? Freddie are you high or are you reading your cards right now? I don't know the difference.”

Could she possibly do that though? On a ship that couldn't sail? With magic she couldn't use? Did she even want to? Gods, why was the kid, Faith, so fucking little. She didn't deserve a life in this place. None of them did because they had done nothing to deserve it, but her being the newest thing on the damned Isle and born to a mother who was paying for the sins of her father, she doubly didn't deserve it. _Fuck_ were her eyes leaking?

“Yeah you do or you wouldn't be crying.”

Uma scowled and scrubbed the traitorous salty wetness from her cheek. 

“Changed my mind. I think I wanna actually kill you, true say.”

But Freddie only smirked at the threat. Hard to scare someone with death when they'd danced in the face of it, the sea captain supposed. 

“Cece's not here. You don't have to fake tough for me, siren,” Freddie muttered with a wink. 

Uma wasn't even about to harp on that nor the nickname the Shadow was the only person allowed to use. Not at all. She turned her attention back to the kid. The baby. Faith. 

“She's not half bad looking. Well formed. She's a fighter. I'd let her join my crew.”

Freddie snorted but the look in her eyes when Uma met them once more made the sea witch's skin crawl. Made her want to fight or flee, strike or swim to safety. It was the most fierce look she had ever seen. Like a predator who would smile before they ripped you to shreds. A dangerous look that was beyond villainous because it was one hundred percent maternal. As if she would breathe her last breath in defense of the baby she held in her arms. Foreign. But strangely soothing at the same time, even if it made her want to reach for a weapon to defend herself in a battle she knew she wouldn't win. 

“Not a chance in hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celebrating a big milestone all weekend! Reached 5000 kudos and I'm over the moon. Thank you all so much for the support, it means the world. 
> 
> My first time writing Freddie but I love her and expect some more of her in future stories as well as baby Faith.
> 
> Thanks for reading, feedback would be greatly appreciated!


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